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Chapter Ten
As my alarm sounded, I stretched my arms up towards the ceiling and exhaled. I’d slept like a baby. No doubt helped by our intense first cooking lesson, not to mention the copious amounts of prosecco we’d enjoyed at dinner.
The tagliatelle and ragu sauce was divine. We were all proud to be eating something that we’d created. Home-made pasta was one thing I’d always wanted to learn, and now I could do it. So far, this trip was proving to be much more fulfilling than my normal hotel breaks.
Things were no better on the Lorenzo front. He hadn’t sat next to me last night, choosing to be between Erica and Fran instead. I don’t think he uttered a single word to me. I got the hint. I wasn’t going to beg for his approval. I’m sure he was used to women falling at his feet, but that just wasn’t me.
After a simple breakfast of fruit, yoghurt, bread and a selection of jams, it was time for our next lesson. Today, Lorenzo explained, we’d be making ravioli, a fish dish and something that sounded like it was going to a type of biscotti.
We started with the biscotti, again taking it in turns to do the different steps. Then we moved on to the cod with chopped leeks, and finally, the ravioli. And of course I needed extra assistance after being told that everything I did wasn’t quite good enough.
After three hours of cooking, I was looking forward to going for another walk like last night. But surprisingly, lunch was pretty much ready straight away. The biscotti thing had been cooked in the oven ages ago, the cod apparently only needed fifteen minutes on the stove, and the ravioli took no time once it was put in boiling water, so Erica had called us to the table much faster than I’d thought. It was worth the effort. I’d definitely be cooking those dishes again. Well, perhaps everything but the ravioli, unless I felt motivated to dedicate an entire Saturday morning in the kitchen.
Later that afternoon we visited a vineyard nearby for some biodynamic wine-tasting and a tour. As we strolled around the grounds, it was interesting listening to Erica. Fran, ever the conversationalist and expert prober, asked her questions about Lorenzo: Was he single? What was his story? Etc. Once again, all the things I really wanted to know.
‘Ah, Lorenzo, what can I say?’ Erica said reluctantly. You could tell she wanted to spill but was trying to remain professional. ‘Lovely guy, but he has, how you say? Issues…with women. His life, is very complicated right now…’ Erica paused as if realising she’d already said too much, then left it at that.
Fran looked at me slyly. She was like a dog with a bone, I could tell. She would let it go now, but I got the impression that this was a conversation she fully intended to continue at some point in the very near future.
The alcohol combined with our marathon cookery lesson made me feel a little bit tired, so I was quite relieved that we wouldn’t have to make dinner this evening and we could just relax instead.
By the time we returned to the villa I was famished.
No way…?
I’m in over my head
I’m out of my depth
I’m head over
I’m head over
I’m head over
I’m head over heels in love with you
I’m head over…
It can’t be?
As soon as I stepped inside, I heard the music blaring loudly from the kitchen. I’d recognise those lyrics anywhere. That’s ‘Head Over Heels’ by the Eclectic Detectives!
I peeked my head around the door and saw Lorenzo in front of the stove, strumming an air guitar to the thumping beat whilst belting out the chorus and clearly getting into it.
Wonders will never cease. He was rocking out to one of my favourite bands. If they were a famous, chart-topping group, it would be no big deal, but the Eclectic Detectives, who I’d discovered randomly on Spotify, were relatively new and definitely not well known. Certainly not amongst any of my friends. And yet, here was Lorenzo, the normally surly Italian chef, singing along to every word. Wow.
I pulled my head back, not wishing to disturb his moment. It was nice to see him in good spirits for a change. Music has the same effect on me too. Even if I’m feeling down, it always has a way of making me feel better and taking me to my happy place.
‘Lorenzo!’ Erica called out as she bounded into the kitchen. ‘Why so loud?’ she shouted! I then heard them engaging in a heated exchange in Italian, and seconds later, everything fell silent. Shame. I was really enjoying that.
‘Dinner we hope will be around eight or eight-fifteen,’ announced Erica as she stepped into the living room. ‘Is okay with you?’ We all nodded in agreement, then I headed upstairs to my room.
I caught up on WhatsApp, sending Roxy and Bella loads of pics of the dishes we’d cooked, which attracted lots of thumbs-up emojis, and after about an hour, I went back downstairs for dinner.
Well, he might be a moody arsehole who had developed a passion for critiquing my cookery skills (which, to be fair, was his job, so really I should stop taking it so personally…), but whilst I’m stating the obvious, he definitely did know how to cook. I tucked into a delicious mushroom risotto that he’d served us, and I could have sworn I’d died and gone to heaven.
I polished it off in no time and was desperate for seconds.
